The Consequence of Change
by RuthanneReid
Summary: Treize Kushrenada messing with people's heads. What more do you want? ~_^ (Be warned - it's definitely a Wu-fic. Oi, I'm such a fangirl... -_-)
1. Consequence of Change, Intro

Consequence of Change: Beginning _ Consequence of Change: _ _Beginning_

They say that the way Time is laid out looks very much like a vine on a wall: one, central stalk decorated by countless shoots going off in all directions. Not all of the branches come to an end, and not all of them bear fruit; sometimes, in fact, there hardly seems any point to the smaller shoots at all.

There are those, however, that grow to be thicker and more grand than even their original parent; those expand to the point that they must be cut off to form their own colonies of grapes and their own offshoots to nourish. These branches are started, like all the others, with the tiniest of roots; there is often no way to tell what will make one branch so very different from another.

Sometimes, one single action makes the difference.

* * *

The sword that he held in his hand was very strange; it was thick, too dark to be metal. The weight was different, the texture too smooth, and the edge didn't seem to be comparatively sharp at all. Upon inspection, the reason for these things became immediately obvious: this particular blade was made of wood. 

Perfectly balanced to be graceful in spite of its thickness and weight, the wooden sword had been made using techiniques developed by Chinese warlords toward the end of the Han dynasty. The techniques had been lost; the swords, however, had not. By altering the normal swordsmanship method to allow for the unusual lightness and differing wind sheer, the determined soldier - according to legend - found such wooden blades to be more effective in battle than their metal counterparts. The blades were sturdy, specially treated for strength and durability; nothing could break them. Lighter than normal, they sliced the air more cleanly than a metal blade, and were more difficult to see as they failed to reflect the light. All in all, they were a near perfect weapon.

Chang Wufei had never seen anything so marvelous in his life.

"Xie xie," he said, thanking the store manager in native Mandarin; and clutching the odd blade closely to his chest, he left.

------

Wufei had made a simple choice that altered his particular timeline; like the butterfly that flaps its wings once in Tokyo and causes rain instead of sun in New York, he had, on a whim, stopped to look at this isolated weapon depot, and in the process found something that changed his path irreparably. In the world with which you and I are familiar, Wufei passed the store without going in, went his way, and was eventually responsible for the death of Treize Kushrenada. In this one, however, things were not so straightforward; and now that he had made this decision, there was no going back.

A new destiny had been born.


	2. Consequence of Change, part one

_One:_ _Replay_

It was a simple proposition; Treize Kushrenada had a taste for beautiful things. 

The last of an ancient and influential family, Treize had been raised to appreciate the nuance of beauty around him. His standing as the head of OZ encouraged this, as did the tastes of his peers and the odd coincidence which had surrounded him with beautiful people throughout his entire life. All of these things mattered - but at heart, there was only one reason why Treize liked beauty.

Because it was beautiful.

War was beautiful. Peace was beautiful. All things were beautiful if viewed in the correct light, and Treize, for one, possessed that vision. It was rather unfortunate that most of those around him did not.

_"Bastard!" Wufei cried, and leapt at him again and again, ignoring his own fury, ignoring his own pain, caring about nothing more than protecting the honor of long-dead people and avenging the perceived waste of their lives._

_"Treize-sama!" Une cried, as she gave order, after order, all to please him. Only to please him._

_"My lord," said Milliardo, giving up his throne, giving up his identity, to stay in the service of the man he had so come to love._

...It went on and on. At this stage in his life, Treize was so used to people being obsessed with him that he no longer bothered to give it thought; instead, he concentrated on how he could put it to use. 

He was proclaimed as a warmonger; as the messiah of a new era; as a monster and near-deity by people in the same homes. He was both worshipped and abhorred, but the simple fact was that Treize held in his hands more power than any one being ever had, on earth or in space, save God - and as Treize was fond of saying, mankind had long ago begun to need a higher system than _that_. 

Behind him, Une cleared her throat. Treize paused for an infitismal second before acknowledging her presence.

"Yes, Lady Une?" he said expectantly, continuing to water his plants.

In response, Lady Une stood straighter and clicked her heels. "Lord Treize," she announced sharply, "I have news regarding the whereabouts of the gundam Deathscythe." 

Treize paused to adjust his aloe vera. "02, you mean?" 

"Yes. I have reason to believe it is presently being kept in Arabia."

Again, the infitismal pause; again, the one eyebrow raised. "Arabia?" Treize repeated doubtfully, as if he had reason to believe otherwise.

Perhaps he did. As far as Une was concerned, Treize knew all.

"Yes, sir," Une said, responding to his almost-disapproval with further militial gruffness. "I would like to request permission to send a search party there; I believe with proper use of radar and satellite, we could locate this gundam - possibly without the pilot inside, therefore making it an easy target." 

"Lady Une, such things are never easy targets," Treize chided mildly, not looking at her as he continued caring for his plants. Aloe vera was such a fascinating flora; the oil in the leaves was even an excellent medicinal source. 

Once you broke them.

Une waited in breath-held silence, obviously needing more of an answer. He turned to face her. "And if the pilot is there?"

"Then we will attack him," Une said simply, and Treize restrained a smile. _Such efficiency, Lady Une,_ he thought, but refrained from saying. Then just for fun, he abruptly put his watering can down and took up her hand instead.

"Lady Une," he said earnestly, making eye contact and pretending not to notice the way she flinched, the way her eyes widened and lips parted, the way every muscle in her body seemed to tremble at even this limited physical contact. Not for the first time, Treize thought that if he ever went so far as to kiss her, her head would explode.

What an amusing thought. Messy, but amusing.

"Please be careful to control yourself, Lady," he said. "I would rather not see a repeat of the... incident at New Edwards Base." 

Une stared at him without response for a moment, resembling nothing more than the wild, spooked deer that he kept on his estate for hunting. With ribbons.

"I..." Her voice cracked; she cleared her throat and tried again. "I would like to employ the nets, sir."

Treize raised one eyebrow, releasing her hand and reaching for his watering can in the same smooth movement. "The nets? I thought they were still in prototype stage."

"They are," she replied, visibly forcing her professionalism to the surface. "However, I believe that a field test is in order, and if, as I hope, we can catch this gundam pilot unaware, then his machine will be debilitated before he even gets into it."

"And he could be killed," Treize murmured, stroking the plant's leaves with the familiarity of a lover. "I believe I asked you to keep the pilots alive when possible."

"When possible. Sir." Une's tone was almost cold; this was the one and only point in which she disagreed with her beloved Treize-sama.

The pilots must die. All of them.

Treize laughed softly as if he'd heard that thought. "Of course, Lady Une, " he soothed, turning to sit again on the divan. "I want to see this carried out with the greatest of efficiency and discretion. I will give you my answer regarding the use of the nets in an hour. Dismissed, Lady."

Une bowed sharply at the waist - not seeming to care that from his position he could not see her - and retreated. The soft sound of the door closing behind her did nothing to quell the room's glorious atmosphere; but somehow, Treize felt it had already been diminished.

_Ah, Lady,_ he thought, studying the way his aloe vera made shadows on the wall. _You have so much further to go..._

Pouring himself a small glass of sherry, he settled back and pondered. There was much to think about tonight; and because he really was in a pensive mood, he decided to rise from his seat and turn off the lights. 

Oh, much better; now he could see the stars from his balcony. Suddenly yearning for fresh air, he opened the double French doors and walked out, drinking in the night sky. And because he was standing out there, invisible in the dark, he saw Wufei coming.

* * *

Wufei had already scaled the wall and dropped soundlessly to the kneaded topsoil of OZ's French Headquarters' front lawn. He had taken every possible precaution; a wide expanse opened before him, which he successfully managed to cross undetected because of the dark clothing he wore - and since neither his skin nor hair were light by any means, in dark cloth he was nearly invisible. It was then a work of two moments to avoid the few soldiers in that area, planting handkerchiefs scented with rabbit's blood and cocaine to render the guard dogs incapable of following him. The blood drew the dogs' attention, and the cocaine numbed their nasal passages; an effective technique used long before man had colonized space.

The trouble didn't really start until he reached the hedge.

Around the back of the manor was a magnificent hedge maze; it provided - in theory - hours of fun for visiting children of dignitaries, and certainly made for an elegant view from the house itself. However, it was also a royal pain in the neck for Wufei. Floor plans, he'd found; guard schedules, he'd memorized - but on the hedge maze, he could find no information at all. So, he was reduced to exploring.

By the time he finally reached the exit, he'd been forced to kill three guards and gag two others; this meant that scheduled check-ins would be missed, and his presence could only go undetected for another twenty minutes.

More the reason to hurry.

Ducking low as he ran quickly across the lawn, Wufei leapt onto the trellis and began to climb as if his life depended on it, not bothering to slow down to avoid scratches from the thorns of whatever flower Treize had growing there. He had one mission, and he was going to do it; if he succeeded - then it wouldn't matter if he died. If he failed - well, then dying would actually be preferable. Either way, Wufei could not outright _lose_ - and as a young man who'd lost any reasonable desire for life beyond pained past and bloodied vengeance, he felt the choices before him were perfectly acceptable.

He reached the balcony - ironically enough, the same balcony from which Treize had been watching him not two minutes earlier - and hopped over, moving quickly through the room toward the door on the far side and ignoring the shadows that seemed to shift toward him in the dark. He moved as confidently as if he'd lived in the place all his life; of course, he HAD memorized the floor plans. Two doors down, three lefts, a right, and he would be in Treize's personal quarters, where, naturally, Treize would be. Any sane, responsible person would be in bed at this time of night; it was not quite three a.m., and leaders of the world especially had to keep themselves thoroughly rested.

Unfortunately, Wufei's logic failed to scope the anomaly that was Treize Kushrenada.

Smiling, Treize flipped on the lights and shifted his sword, blade catching the light. "Wufei," he said calmly, looking his visitor over carefully. "As honored as I am to see you again, I thought we had agreed to battle in mobile suits when next we met - ne? Why are you here?"

Wufei stiffened, but to his credit, showed no further surprise. He proceeded to draw a very dark, odd looking sword. 

"I have come to kill you," he said simply, never one to beat around the bush._ Time to prove yourself, _ he thought at his wooden blade, and lunged. 

"My, my," Treize said, eyeing Wufei with somewhat increased interest, and then they began.

* * *

Not long after the battle, Treize sat in a reclining chair - the divan being rendered completely unusable in the course of the fighting - and considered the evening's events. 

Much had happened here today; he was not sure if he should be pleased or appalled at his own behavior. Really, baiting the boy to come back in the first place had been irresponsible; but now...

He had been both amazed and mildly disturbed to see Wufei suddenly dart from the bushes and fly at him tonight, eventually challenging him with what had turned out to be a wooden sword of astounding workmanship. It was interesting that the boy had come for him; it was amazing that he had, to a point, succeeded.

No, not "amazing" - it was extraordinary.

Curiosity peaked, Treize had decided wait and deal with this obviously eager child on the boy's own terms, rather than call the guards. He had been ready for him, of course - Treize had never known what it was like to be unprepared for anything - although truthfully, he had not believed the boy would actually come _back_. He had baited him for it, yes; but hoping and realizing were two entirely different things and he really had not expected this.

He sipped his tea and considered the situation as academically as possible.

It was a well-known fact that birds, if domestic, would often return to their owners when released. The reality that there were not food and water cups everywhere in the world was often enough to ensure this reversion, and in any case, Treize liked to play the game of setting them free just to see them come back to him. He had long ago learned that the addictions of comfort and a gentle hand could be enough to overturn freedom's call, and had found that the power to prevail over nature and instinct was truly an addicting one.

Une had asked him once why he liked to do such a thing; setting free one's pets seemed an odd pastime for the leader of the known universe.

_"Why do you do that, Treize-sama?" Une said, watching the birds flit away with more than a little puzzlement._

_"Do what, Lady Une?" _

_"Set them free. The birds."_

_Treize smiled to himself, thinking over the deep and half-karmic need the act fulfilled; to be the type of man who could stand still for hours just for the chance to shoot a few wild birds - and then at the same time be the type of man to release his own domesticated pets. It was a kind of justice; a balance in the circle of life and death, and a true measure of the only power he honestly respected: that of nature._

_He looked at Une and knew he could never tell her that._

_"Because I like to see what they will do," he said - which was not entirely untrue. "I like to see them come back to me; if they do, then perhaps I was not as bad a master as I could have been...?" _

Of course he hadn't told her the real reason. That reason involved a lust for power, a desire for control, a NEED for the beauty that could only come when things were pushed to their utmost limit. 

Une would never have understood; and here, Treize suspected, was another example that Une would never be able to understand. 

If Wufei's appearance and method of attack had not been enough to make him look twice, his choice of weapon and advancement of skill certainly would have.

It was obvious the boy had been practicing.

Treize had seen wooden swords of that make before, of course; in fact, he owned three of them - but even he himself had never mastered this particular type of blade to the extent that Wufei had. Wufei fought with a fury; with fire in his eyes and his teeth bared, throwing a hint of desperation into every move that almost rendered him less effective.

Almost.

By the end of the duel, Treize had actually been winded, and fighting to keep himself from LOOKING winded. This was something that never happened; it peaked Treize's curiosity even more. And at the end, when he had finally and luckily managed to knock away Wufei's sword and catch him, rapier-tip to throat, the child had... collapsed. 

Not physically, of course; Wufei's pride would not have allowed him to do that. But his eyes...

... the absolute _yearning_ for death that Treize saw there; the complete deflation of hope, of survival instinct, of everything that had been there only moments before - replaced by a dead, hurt desire to no longer be among the living.

Obviously unaware of just how enthralling his eyes were when he was miserable, Wufei had taken a step forward - cutting his own skin on the tip of Treize's sword - and demanded that Treize kill him. Which, of course, he had not.

How could he do something like THAT? Treize had suspected Wufei was an extraordinary boy _before_; now... well, he was actually impressed - and more than a little curious. Why had his failure hit him so hard? The child had not acted like one who had to prove a point...

He had acted like one who had lost everything he had to live for.

Treize smiled, steepling his fingers and watching the aloe vera's shadows on the wall. No, he had not killed him - but he _had_ proposed a bet. It was not entirely fair, he'd said, for Wufei at this juncture; after all, Wufei was obviously extremely capable and gifted beyond his years. The difficulty lay, quite simply, in his youth.

_"I am some nine years older than you, if the reports are correct," he said, hoping that his reports were indeed correct and he was not making a fool of himself._

_Wufei had merely looked at him, as if not quite comprehending why Treize was talking and not executing._

_"Those nine years make quite a difference, Wufei," Treize continued, careful to use gentle, non-threatening tones - spooking the boy now could ruin everything. What "everything" was, he had no idea; but that hardly mattered. "I do hope you see where I'm going with this."_

_"No," Wufei said. "Kill me."_

_Hm. Apparently conversation was going to be sparse._

_"No," Treize replied, lowering his blade somewhat - and the look of horror, of pain and of shame, that flashed through Wufei's eyes was enough to hook him on the child for at least a few months to come. _

_He HAD to understand what made this boy tick._

_"I would rather propose something... more fair than that. It would be ludicrous for me to take your life when you have obviously completely misunderstood the situation.."_

_Wufei had blinked at him, his mouth gaping in confused disgust. "KILL me!" he shouted. "Don't you GET it? This is not a GAME, you ass! Kill me now or eventually I WILL kill you! What the hell is WRONG with you! You WANT to die?"_

_"Wufei," Treize interrupted sharply, deciding to try something. He leveled a slightly disapproving gaze on the younger man. "We are discussing things as adults now, as I suspect you would prefer to be treated. And since we are discussing things as adults rather than children, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from using such tone of voice in my presence." It was condescending; it was reprimanding; and it had exactly the result Treize had been hoping for._

_Wufei flinched slightly, dropped his gaze, and fell into scowling silence._

_Ooh. This had potential. _

_Treize lowered his sword completely and continued talking._

_"I propose... a simple bet," he'd said, shooting off the top of his head._

The result had been more successful than Treize had expected. Still not entirely sure what he was aiming for, he had coddled and placated the boy until he'd HAD to listen to him; and, after a good deal of grudging silence on Wufei's part and further discussing by Treize, Wufei had accepted the terms.   


The boy would return, as many times as need be, and duel with Treize again - but on more even ground. They would expand their "dueling" to include matters of the mind, such as chess; and since Wufei was still not _quite_ Treize's equal, the penalty for loss would not be death at this point. Rather, it would be something like... oh, sharing of information.

A bizarre proposal, yes; suicidal, in fact, if not downright stupid. Wufei had thought it was stupid. Wufei had said so, loudly enough that if any guards _had_ been nearby, they would have come running. But Wufei had eventually accepted, because Treize held a carrot in front of his nose that he could not resist:

Knowledge.

_"Wufei," Treize had said, speaking as if to a child that insists on misbehaving even though it knows better. "I know you are struggling here; and I see you carry with you... much hurt. However, allow me to suggest that you do not know everything in this case; and I would welcome the chance to teach you. I am honorable, Wufei - whatever others may say about me - and I will not betray you. Give me the chance to show myself to you - and you me - and then see what conclusions we reach. Ne?"_

Treize had known that most of that nonsense would go in one ear and out the other; as with wild animals, it was the tone rather than the words that mattered, anyway. However... it had had a better result than he'd thought possible.

By implying that Wufei did not "get" him - that there was some deeper facet about Treize Kushrenada, be it large or small, that Wufei did not understand - he had apparently triggered a hot spot. Wufei had bristled at the very idea that he could be intellectually wrong about any concept, and he had immediately accepted the bet. He'd probably be berating himself for hours afterward, but he HAD accepted; Treize was not likely to forget the reason why.

Treize then had - again as a matter of faith - called a guard and had Wufei escorted safely off the premises without telling said guard just WHO Wufei was. The boy was unarmed, of course; now, Treize held the abandoned sword in his hands and marveled at its beauty. It was perfect; unique, crafted, a thing of unusual quality and workmanship - not unlike Wufei himself - to the extent that it even outshone his own private sword collection. It also explained why Wufei had slipped past the metal detectors safely.

No one had ever thought to come at him like that before.

So Wufei was... what? A child who thought outside the box; whose desire for... justice, apparently?... so outweighed his desire for life that being robbed of it made him want to die. A child who already bore more anger than most adults would in their entire lives.

An intelligent child who peaked his curiosity. 

Well, no matter; Treize had given Wufei his own personal communication codes - again, a step of trust - and told the boy to contact him when he wished to duel next. All safety would be guaranteed; this would be, above all, a _fair_ battle. 

The confusion on the boy's face as he had left had been... truly lovely. Much better than the anger; Wufei's face did funny things when he was shouting at people. Perhaps Treize could stop him from shouting. He mentally put it on the docket of "things to do IF Wufei should actually bother to contact me again" and, on impulse, changed his mind on whether or not to use the nets Lady Une had mentioned.

Neither he nor anybody else was aware how much history had now changed.

* * *


	3. Consequence of Change, part two

_Two_ _Weight_

While Wufei went home in defeat and Treize slept the sleep of the well contented, Trowa Barton sat in the middle of nowhere and made tacos. 

At least, that's what they looked like; they were actually large amounts of plastique folded around an inflammatory jelly, guaranteeing further results than explosives alone possibly could. After all, a bomb would simply blow up; these would blow up and _then_ burn through anything the jelly happened to touch. A vicious weapon, and Trowa enjoyed making them; oddly enough, it calmed him.

The plan was to put put these small bombs in strategic points around the specifically chosen mobile suite factory to take out the power for most of the compound. Without power, they'd be slower to react and mobilize their defensive forces; if all went well, the entire base would fall to the bullets of Heavyarms within twenty four hours of the initial explosion. It really was a perfect plan - but there was one problem: Trowa had received no orders to attack.

It had been two weeks since the pilot known as 01 had attempted to self destruct; as far as he knew, Trowa was the only person aware that pilot 01 was still alive. And since he had received no communiqué from Doktor S, he wasn't entirely sure what to do. It seemed since the entire 01 incident, all the gundam pilots and their missions had scattered to the wind; for half a month, there'd been no word. 

Trowa had a choice in front of him; part of him wanted to simply wait, to be patient and see what the good Doktor had in mind. And if that was nothing, well... Trowa had done lots of nothing in the past. It was hardly an issue.

But the other half of his mind seemed to disagree. He had tended to pilot 01 for a couple of weeks now, and dealing with the young man in that condition had made him think. Heero had done what they had all - presumably - been told to do if the situation became critical; he had sacrificed himself and his gundam for the sake of the colonies, without any noticeable hesitation. Thinking about this, Trowa had searched himself - and had been surprised to discover that he did not have the resolve to do the same.

He had discovered that he, Trowa Barton, did not want to die.

So few actual desires crossed his mind that this one surprised him; it surprised him more when he realized that the damaged, unconscious boy presently in his care believed more in the Cause than he did. Or at least, so it seemed from appearances. 

At any rate, it gave him a lot to think about; about his future actions, about his motives and his desire... and what he was going to do with the gundam if no orders ever came to him again. It would have to be something to make his point, to harm OZ - and to prove his loyalty to the colonies, as pilot 01 had. Something that might just involve self destructing.

It was at that moment, however, that the changes Wufei had unconsciously affected in this timeline reached Trowa like ripples on the water. Before, Trowa had received no new orders, had nursed Heero to health, and then had gone on to almost self destruct in the process of attacking a battalion of OZ pleasure-goers who had attended his circus.

This time, however, new orders came through, and Trowa's fate was altered. 

The mission was very simple: find and destroy the remains of gundam 02 - the Deathscythe.

Setting up Heero so the young man could continue to recover in his absence, Trowa prepared Heavyarms and headed out to his next mission.

* * *

Several hours before Trowa Barton received his orders and blissfully unaware that Une was coming for him, Duo Maxwell relaxed on good, Arabian sand and took a breather.

It had been two weeks since Heero had bought it; two weeks since their biggest and best battle to date had died in effigy because the bastards who ran OZ had no trouble threatening innocent colony members. Two weeks of total, paranoid, stagnant inactivity during which there were no orders, no battles, and nothing at all to do but stare at the wall.

Duo was beginning to think that if Professor G didn't come up with something for him soon, he was just going to have to make up an order himself.

God only knew how it was that Quatre was managing to handle this. The Maganacs were everywhere and both pilots' needs WERE being met, yes - but Duo himself was beginning to feel a definite need for alone-time, time without anybody who wore a fez. There were too many people hovering at every moment, and while it was true that their direct worship was apparently reserved for Quatre the Angelic, Duo the Friend of Quatre was getting his own share.

He needed a break. So much so that he had taken his newly-repaired Deathscythe and headed off for an evening, looking for the lonliest spot of desert he could find, and there had set up camp. 

The first hour or two after that were just great. He'd made a little fire, had a little dinner; refused to do any kind of serious thinking, talked to Deathscythe about what he would do when the war was over, and then taken a little nap. Unfortunately, however, that was when the nightmare began.

_Heero_

_Heero, calmly stepping out of gundam 01 with a kind of mad joy on his face_

_Triumphant, joyful madness_

_And fully knowing what he was doing, know what he was facing_

_What the colonies were facing_

_Pushing the button that would send him into death._

_"Suicides go to hell," sister Helen explained_ - and then Duo woke up with a start.

It took Duo a moment to register where he was; for a moment, it had felt like he was back in Maxwell parish orphanage, in Sunday School and Mass, learning about the rules of the catechism - only with pilot 01 (a.k.a. one Heero Yuy) as the example of someone who got to skip Purgatory and instead went straight to hell.

Not even a chance on collecting the two hundred dollars, baby.

"Gaah, but he did it for a good CAUSE!" Duo shouted at the air, taking some catharsis in the way the echoes bounced off the rocks around him. "Doesn't that MATTER to you? Huh?" No answer came; he shivered and hugged his knees, trying to snap out of the shakes the dream had given him. Duo had been raised quasi-Catholic - that is, in a Catholic organization - but honestly, he himself had never believed the tenants. 

_"But how can you believe in a God you can't see?"_

_Soft laughter around him, warm smiles and amused faces. Duo was six, an orphan, only just taken in off the streets, and the nuns were asking him questions for the sake of the visiting prospective parents in the room. Duo had good very prospects indeed - he was bright eyed, loquacious, intelligent and funny; it didn't hurt that he was cute as a button, either. _

_"That's what faith is for, Duo," explained Sister Helen, the nice one. One of the women behind her giggled and whispered something about cherubic faces, but Duo ignored that; he was too busy working through Sister Helen's statement._

_He thought for a moment, little mouth pursed into a pout. "Well... I don't like that. I think I'll believe in the god of death, instead. After all, I see death all around me, so I KNOW he must be real! Besides, if there really WERE a God, then He'd stop the war, and He hasn't - so He must not exist." And, pleased with his logic, he had smiled at all those present._

_It had been slightly beyond him to understand why no one smiled back - why, in fact, some of the prospective parents that were there that day had looked uncomfortable and gone on to interview some other child. It had hurt him; enough that he'd begun to wonder if there were something wrong... with HIM._

_And then Father Maxwell had hugged him, promising that everything would be all right - and for a while... it was._

"Yeah," Duo said bitterly to himself, some nine years later and long since orphaned more than once. He was silent for a moment, remembering. It had been a group of rebels against the Earth-Sphere Alliance who had done it; who had massacred the church because its followers had dared to preach peace in a time of war, killing everyone there except for him - because he'd tried to do just what they wanted.

They wanted a mobile suit; so Duo had gone to steal one for them.

Duo had inordinate skills as a pickpocket; thief and minor entrepreneur, he'd found it ridiculously easy to sneak into an Alliance base and successfully steal a Taurus unit. Returning later that day in a large truck he'd also stolen, Duo had blindly believed that the rebel leader would keep his promise; that if he - Duo - brought them a mobile suit, they'd leave the Maxwell parish people alone. 

That had not been the case. Duo had learned firsthand the pain that comes through lying as Sister Helen - the only survivor - died in his arms.

Now, nine years later, Duo reflected on all these things and wondered what - if anything - he had in common with Heero Yuy.

"What kind of guy were you, Heero Yuy?" he asked of nobody. "What kind of life did you have? Was it so bad that you didn't hesitate to trade it for a gravestone?" There was something amazing in the way pilot 01 had gone about all his missions with the utmost devotion - and yet thrown all of it and his life away the moment that weirdo with the hook-hand had hinted that he should. 

Duo felt quite sure he would not have been ready to do that. So... did that mean he wasn't as good a gundam pilot?

Duo threw a rock over the side of the cliff, listening to the cracking sound of its echoed fall deep in the canyon and pondering. Should he be like Heero? Just... blow himself up for the sake of the cause?

Part of him rather thought that would only serve to make him useless for any FUTURE events; but then, it had always been in Duo's nature to question. No... it would have to be something pretty desperate to make Duo Maxwell be so willing to die. Then again, he'd seen Heero on a day-to-day basis for a while there; the kid didn't even know how to smile. He never had any fun, never tried to be normal. Maybe he'd been so willing to die... because he'd never really _lived_. 

THERE was a thought. Unsure, but enjoying the challenge, Duo continued to think about it, shifting his position from time to time, letting the night drag over him, and rubbing his arms to keep them from getting too cold. Then, around 2 am, a noise disturbed him.

Looking up sharply and scrambling to his feet, Duo concentrated on the night's silence. Was somebody coming? Couldn't really let Deathscythe be seen if somebody WAS, but nobody was supposed to be OUT here....

A deep rumbling vibration tickled the bottoms of Duo's feet; then a large, cracking sound of splitting rock came, Duo knew: that was the sound and feel of many mobile suits coming this way, or he was a seamstress. 

"Shit!" he said under his breath, and turned to start sprinting toward Deathscythe. Why he had seen fit to flop on the ground so far from the gundam NOW was incomprehensible; it had seemed like a good idea at the time....

The distinct sound of something being fired at him reached his ears, and Duo automatically ducked, hoping their aim was worse than his was. And then whatever had been fired landed on Deathscythe, and the night's stillness was shattered completely as if it had never existed.

From the point of impact, electricity suddenly spidered throughout the machine, frying every circuit and shorting every connective panel in a retina-burning display of power. Duo had almost reached the gundam when this happened, and was - by luck or fate - thrown from Deathscythe by the initial charge. Skidding at least fifteen feet through the sand and gravel, Duo grimaced and clutched at his burned skin and trying not to cry out as he helplessly watched as Deathscythe died.

Three more of those objects came flying overhead, and each one found its mark. The gundam's death-thralls grew worse; then its main computer malfunctioned, and suddenly it began firing off its missiles.

_Oh, hell - killed by my own Gundam.... _

That thought spurred Duo back to reality in spite of the numbness and pain, and he somehow he scrambled to his feet and started moving. He would have time to think about _what_, _who_, _when_, _where_, and _how_ later - for now, survival took precedent, that meant he had to get out of there. _Focus, Duo, FOCUS,_ he warned himself sternly, and ran.

Vaguely grateful for the fact that the weaponry being shot off was superheating the air and therefore making it impossible to track him via heat sensors, Duo stumbled directly toward the mobile dolls in the shadows, knowing they'd never expect him to do such a thing and hoping that nobody was watching. He might - _might_ - just get away.

After all - only a mad man would run _toward_ the enemy.

* * *

Treize studied Lady Une in his private monitors, watching her as she watched the attack. He had given Une permission to use the nets a few minutes after Wufei had left; at first it had not seemed like a very sound idea, but now - well, for some reason, he felt more _ daring._

His eyes expertly glanced over the Gundam's specs scrolling across his screen. Oh, that was definitely 02 - "was," of course, being the operative word - being fried down there, and that meant that the pilot was the one who called himself the "god of death." Interesting. 

He smiled softly as Une barked orders into her radio, sending units hither, thither and yon in an effort to cordon off the area. Ah, the pilot was never going to be that easy to catch... but Une simply didn't understand that concept. It would have been no challenge at all if he were, and such an unchallenging person would NEVER have been picked to pilot a Gundam. Privately, Treize wondered if this "deathgod" were as unusual as the other pilot he'd spoken with this evening; perhaps the boy could be captured and then he'd find out. Amused at the idea, he rooted for the pilot to survive and watched the fireworks.

And then, Une's monitor went blank. Leaning forward with one fist clenched and the other pointing as if administering doom via fingertip, she shouted orders for satellite monitors and wavelength adjustment, trying to get the sensors back online. It seemed that the nets had been TOO successful; the gundam's deaththroes had shorted out some of the monitoring equipment on the nearby mobile suits. 

In a few moments, she got her way; the picture cleared - 

There was no sign of Duo.

There was a lot of glass where the sand had melted; a husk - still twitching - of the Gundam with OZ's new weaponry on it; and several lost-looking mobile suits - but no pilot. Well, the soldiers had their orders; they reorganized and searched the area.

There was no sign of the pilot alive or dead. 

No prisoner. 

No body.

In his quarters, Treize laughed softly and turned the monitor off, shaking his head. He guessed where the pilot would be - where he himself would have gone, in that situation - and wondered how long it would take Une to figure it out.

If she figured it out.

_Ah... Lady,_ he thought one more time, pursing his lips and rising to go to bed. _Perhaps you do not have so much farther to go. Perhaps, for you... you have already arrived._

Dismissing such things as no longer relevant and putting away the missing-pilot mystery as already solved in his head, Treize Kushrenada went to bed and thought about it no more.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the field, the soldiers were growing tired of searching for a pilot who had most likely been cooked to ash; it seemed a waste of time and equipment. "All right guys, this is a done deal," said the captain of the mobile suit troops, stifling a yawn. "There's no pilot here out here - sound off, and do it quick so we can all go home to bed. Alpha leader one, copy. All systems go," he said, and waited for response.

"Alpha one, copy. All systems go."

"Alpha two copy. All systems go."

"Beta leader one, copy. All systems go." 

One by one, all the soldiers sounded off, confirming the state of their mobile suits before retreating to the base in Bejing. It was definitely time to call it a day.

No one noticed the suit, farthest in the field, that sounded off - and then flew in the opposite direction.

* * *

"Gamma 2, copy. All systems go," Duo said, mimicking the British accent the former pilot of the suit had had; since said pilot was dead, he didn't mind the imitation. Of course, it helped that Duo's native language was English - American, really, but it was a good sight closer than Japanese. He spared a glance at the soldier stiffening at his feet, head at that uncomfortable angle that heads only managed when the neck attached to them was broken. It served the soldier right; he hadn't properly latched his port-door shut, which was a huge tactical error - one that he would obviously never make again.

Duo choked once, not quite allowing himself to laugh as he piloted the suit to the west; he was determined to get someplace safe, dump this thing, and then and steal a car. His Deathscythe; it would have almost been easier if they'd gotten HIM.

Duo shook his head hard, ignoring the pain that flared down his back when he did so. _STOP it, Maxwell,_ he thought, trying to copy Sister Helen's tone of voice. Hysterics now would do no good; Professor G could build him another one, and then he'd have his Deathscythe back and all would be well. There was nothing to be upset about. Nothing at all. For now, he'd just... well....

Duo mentally ran down his list of injuries; second degree burns, at least two broken ribs, his left arm wasn't working right... this was bad, very bad. He didn't dare go back toward Quatre; the last thing he wanted to do was give away that position of secrecy. Okay... okay. no problem. He'd head toward the ocean - hit another continent, THAT could work - deal with his wounds, find a way to warn Quatre, and then see about getting a new Deathscythe. Nooooooo problem. He could handle it.

With this in mind and the weight in his heart heavier than it had ever been, he flew toward his goal, determined to survive and honestly not aware that he was crying. 


	4. Consequence of Change, part three

_Three_ _Division_

It is safe to say that by the time Wufei arrived home, he was less than well. 

Stumbling up the steps to the small, beach-city house that was presently his hideout, he unlocked the door and threw himself into the room. It was only as he paused to reactivate the alarm that reality finally caught up with him. 

He had... _lost._

Closing his eyes and leaning heavily against the doorframe with a wearied expression, Wufei ran his hand over his face and tried to slow his breathing. He felt cold, weak, and nauseated; all were symptoms of delayed shock, but so much of his mind was dedicated to pinpointing where he had gone wrong that he failed to realize this. Going over every detail with the grim determination of a mortician, he pushed away from the wall and stumbled toward the bathroom.

Wufei had thrown everything he had into this damned venture; every emotion, every intent, every single slice of time he'd been able to free from Master O's schedule had been dedicated to the cause of eradicating Treize Kushrenada. And yet, he had failed. No matter what he had tried, Treize had been one step ahead of him; and from Wufei's point of view, this was proof that he was unworthy of his goal.

Of course, Wufei did not realize how close he'd actually come to success; Treize had the gift of making everything look easy, and Wufei would never know that there had been a brief, wonderful moment in which Treize had actually thought he might die. The moment had passed, of course; but still - such moments were rare for Treize Kushrenada, and had made the duel all the more fascinating to him. Perhaps that was why he'd smiled the whole way through, then smiled afterwards as they talked, and even smiled as as he'd sent Wufei away.

Wufei knew none of this; he only knew that he'd had a second chance, and failed - and that in spite of his obvious unworthiness, Treize had not treated him as he'd expected to be treated. At best, Wufei had expected execution; at worst, he'd expected imprisonment, torture, interrogation - in which case he'd have no choice but to take his own life, in spite of the dishonor that would bring. 

But Treize had done none of those things. He had spoken calmly, calmingly, as if dealing with a wild animal that might bolt, and then proposed... what? 

A bet?

Gods... Wufei wasn't sure _what_ had happened. All he knew was that he'd been terribly wrong about Treize Kushrenada, and that meant that the premise under which he'd been training, under which he'd taken the Gundam and come to earth, under which he'd LIVED for well over a year... was wrong.

Wufei had assumed from the beginning that Treize was dishonorable; from his dubious behavior of hosting a war to the underhanded methods his men used to fight, Treize had never impressed Wufei as being worthy of respect in any way, shape, or form. He had seemed to be the type of man who would attack from behind, a lying charlatan - one whose wish was to rule the world and whose motives would adopt any necessary means. Only... he had not acted that way. 

Treize had behaved like a gentleman. Wufei had not been neither harmed nor followed; he had been treated with respect, neither coddled nor interrogated, and now, he didn't know what to do. After securing the alarm system via the touchpad in his kitchen, he leaned against the wall in the living room, face in his hands and breath coming in controlled hitches. Treize's face seemed to float before him, mocking.

_"....Why are you here?"_

_"I have come to kill you."  
_

_And then came the battle, and again, there was no way to defend. None. Suddenly his blade was... somewhere else, and Treize's was against his throat - and it was all over. Funny; he was not quite out of time yet. Another three minutes and the guards would have been alerted... but that wasn't enough time to escape anyway, so no matter what, he was done for._

_And Treize... SMILED at him._

_SMILED. Like one would at a favored pet dog._

Distractedly rubbing the back of his neck, Wufei pushed away from the wall and sat heavily on one of the sofas.How could this be? _How_? He had done everything right - he was sure he had, or he never would have made it into the compound. How could Treize have defeated him again? Treize was evil and evil _should_ always eventually lose to good... right?

Right?

_Not even tired he's not even BREATHING hard and I tried my best my best my VERY best..._

_"Wufei."_

_...that's right. He remembered my name._

_"Now what, exactly, are we going to do with you?"_

_"Kill me." It's perfectly obvious. Weirdo._

_"No."_

_..........NO?!?_

And so had come the first of many twists. Treize was as much the master with words as he was with weapons, and he'd completely dominated the conversation. Wufei had ended up agreeing to something he didn't really want, accepting that he would NOT die at Treize's hand in the near future, taken Treize's reprimands as though he had earned them, and then docilely gone his way like a recalcitrant puppy.

What the HELL was wrong with him?

_"I propose... a simple bet," Treize said, looking both interested and wary and obviously assuming Wufei would simply... go along with it._

Oh, sure, a little bet. Just a little bet that promised to strip every last bit of his remaining honor away from him... or did Treize understand that? Perhaps he did. Perhaps this was his true punishment.

A fate worse than death.

_He who would be just must also be strong... _

Wufei's own words to Sally Po echoed back to him, and he felt a twist in his chest, as though his heart were caving in. No; he was not strong. He had no right to be here, doing what he was doing. He had failed.

Not knowing what to do, not knowing what move he was supposed to make next, Wufei bowed his head, eyes tightly closed and lashes wet. "Nataku..." he said quietly, unable to think anymore, just wanting to sleep. Sleep. "Gods, Nataku... I'm so sorry." Lying down with his face pressed to the rough pillows of the sofa, he drifted off into sleep; and as he slept, he dreamed - and remembered.

* * *

Wufei had come from a very unique ancestry.

The Dragon Clan as a whole had been banished to space by its native China almost a hundred years ago, sent to a decrepit colony that was itself over a hundred years old and falling apart - the clan not, in truth, been meant to survive. The Dragon Clan had as its reputation that of the fiercest warriors and the sharpest minds in all of China, and had held this reputation for centuries because it was simply _true._ When China banished them, it thought to rid itself of a potential danger; as it happened, instead of destroying them, it isolated the members of the clan and cut off all cultural interference. The result was a tightened group discipline and people like Chang Wufei.

Of all his clan, Wufei was the most gifted child born to the Dragon Clan in well over half a century; this was no mean statement. Wufei had never had to train; his martial arts skills had been present almost as soon as he could walk, and his mind was such that he absorbed information at a startling rate - which was why Master Laoshi O had picked the boy to be his Gundam pilot almost as soon as he'd known he would be needing one. 

There were, as perhaps to be expected with a child prodigy, some problems. Wufei had no difficulties piloting the Gundam prototypes; he had no trouble understanding Master O's instructions or adjusting to new situations in the simulator or memorizing procedural handbooks. 

The problem was his attitude. 

Wufei fancied himself quite the philosopher - indeed, he _had_ read almost all the books that the entire clan had brought with them - and disagreed sharply with Master O's theories. 

"There is no such thing as justice outside of individual circumstances; so why do we fight?" he would argue, barely eleven years old and already fully convinced of his own standing. "There is no justice in this world! You make these hunks of junk for what purpose? No one person can change the course of history!" On and on it went, Wufei all the while unaware how his own genius disproved his statements - and how much amusement Master O garnered from their tenacity; there was nothing quite like being lectured by a four-foot revolutionary as one attempted to build a super robot. 

Now, it was true that Wufei was not a fighter in spirit; he had a hidden wealth of emotion that served to make him passionate in everything he did, but it also left him open to injury. Master O had observed that Wufei was easily hurt, and carried the wounds too deeply to ever really heal; a potential weakness in a battle situation. Nevertheless, Master O had never lost faith in him; anything Wufei touched turned to gold, and since Wufei himself had an ingrained respect for his elders that almost guaranteed eventual obedience, Master O believed that when the time was _needed _for Wufei to pilot, he would. As it turned out, he was right; unfortunately, that time came just a little too late.

In AC 194, one year before the famous Operation Meteor went into effect, Wufei was wed at the age of fourteen to the clan leader's daughter, Ron Meiran. Meiran had not been overly pleased with the fact that she was being forced to marry someone so unlike her. She was extremely opinionated, abrasive, combative, and had neither patience for nor interest in books. Wufei had found her irritating, and had never bothered to associate with her. He had not cared to do so even then; however, neither child had had any choice.

_"You're... that scholar boy," she said, the roundness of her cheeks betraying her youth in spite of the elegance of her bridal costume._

_"You're dissatisfied?" said Wufei, eyebrows raised._

_"A person like you has no right to carry on the line of our proud clan," she said bluntly, with no concern for tact or propriety._

_"Oh. Well, it certainly wasn't my idea!" Wufei replied, removing his ceremonial wedding robes and heading for the door. However, the choice did not belong to him; they'd been wed, consummated the marriage, as required by the elders, and from then on had absolutely as little to do with one another as possible._

_Meiran believed in justice; she preached about strength, about the glory of fighting, and in honor of her lineage had even nicknamed herself Nataku - an ancient warrior goddess who supposedly protected the Dragon Clan. Everything to her was an issue worth fighting over - preferably physically, if possible, and this attitude above all grated on Wufei's nerves._

_"Wufei, you call yourself a man?" she berated, standing in the field and obviously oblivious to how the flatness of her figure marked her as definitely less than a woman. "I thought that after becoming my partner, you'd change. I guess I was completely wrong!"_

_Wufei, who was engulfed in a good book, ignored her. _

_"Wufei!" she continued, refusing to **be** ignored. "Why don't you ever practice fighting techniques, like the others?"_

_Wufei was in a good mood; he decided to try to reason with her. "Why... do you fight?" he asked, hoping for at least a semi-intelligent answer.  
_

_"For justice!" Meiran declared, posing with both fists clenched in front of her._

_Well, this was less than wondrous. "Justice?" he repeated, closing his book. "You really think there is such a thing?"_

_"Do you want me to show you?" she asked, immediately going into left-forward stance._

_Good grief... "Go ahead," Wufei said, removing his glasses and standing to face her. _

_She attacked. _

_It didn't take long; almost symbolically, rain began to fall all around them as Wufei took this supposed "best warrior in her clan" down in a few simple moves. He was simply too gifted._

_"H... how... could it be?" Meiran coughed, not seriously injured; she was, however both winded and muddy. "I am the strongest of our clan..."_

_"You think you're Nataku?" Wufei responded, putting his glasses back on, rain or no. "You have a lot of nerve calling yourself by that name. There is no justice - except in individual circumstances. A fight based on such a thing is meaningless." He looked down at her, not offering to help her up._

_"I KNOW that!" Meiran shouted back, standing; her voice was suspiciously unsteady. "But even so, I have to fight! That is the way of our people!" And then, she ran away. Wufei shook his head in wonder that he could be tied to such a woman and moved on to the lab, which was considerably drier._

_Later on that day, Master O brought up the fight as a topic in their conversation. He felt responsible for Wufei's raising, in a way, since both the boy's parents were dead; he simply could not allow this kind of exhibition to slide. Worse yet was the fact that Operation Meteor was practically around the corner; he could afford to cut the boy no slack whatsoever. Wufei had to be READY._

_"So. You think you won?" Master O said, working on a Gundam that looked suspiciously like the Tallgeese._

_"Think?" Wufei said indignantly as he sat on the steps leading into Master O's lab with more than a hint of petulance. "No, I DID win! There is no justice in this world!" he stated with surety._

_"No," Master O corrected gently. "You were unable to change Meiran's thinking; all you did was force your own conclusions on her." A few sparks flew from the control panel he was resetting. "Besides," he continued. "You don't DO anything, you know. With your strength and abilities, Wufei... you could change the course of history."_

_Wufei knew that Master O did not say such things lightly; the very power of that statement shook him, and rather than carry such a burden on his 14-year-old heart, he dismissed it entirely. "That has nothing to do with me," he argued, standing to emphasize his point. "No one can change the course of history."_

_"Yes, yes, you're very smart," Master O said in a condescending tone, acknowledging what had already been acknowledged many times before. They had had versions of this conversation, on and off, for the past five years. "But are you going to just sit back, being smart, and watch while history plays with human beings, destroys their happiness, and kills them?"_

_Wufei snorted softly, glancing at the Gundams rather than the eyes of his mentor. "Is that why you made these pieces of junk?"_

_Master O smiled. "Hey, Wufei," he said lightly, tone back to being playful and amused. "These pieces of junk need names - can you think of anything?"_

_"Shenlon," Wufei answered immediately, looking over the more elaborate machine. "That Nataku is too weak to protect this clan."_

* * *

Wufei curled up on the sofa, caught in this dream and tensed to the point of trembling. This was the prelude to the darkest time of his life; it was something he did not wish to revisit, but the failure of this evening seemed to have triggered the memory. Not waking up - perhaps in a sort of self-induced penance - Wufei grimaced and accepted the images, reliving what he had already lived, learning anew how very much he deserved to be alone. He had not told Sally any of this; only Trowa knew, and that was because he'd ended up telling Trowa almost everything. There was something about the quiet young man that inspired confidence, and Wufei had needed confidence at that time. It was almost a shame he was not here to speak with now.

* * *

_Ironically enough, Wufei had no way of knowing that Sally Po was the one asked to eliminate all life on his colony; he would never know that she fought that order, and that the amorality of such a thing was what caused her to defect. Also, he did not know that the initial attack on his colony signified the first rift between OZ and the Alliance. _

_General Septem, following the order to "remove the dangerous element on A0206, in the L5 cluster," had ordered the use of biological warfare to ensure a quick resolution; __Treize Kushrenada, however, had ordered a mobile suite attack. The two groups converged on the colony in a morbid kind of contest, both flying toward the same goal: complete massacre of the inhabitants of A0206 - the Dragon Clan._

_The members of the Dragon Clan had been expecting such a raid for some time because they were harboring a man who __built Gundams; hence, they were ready to react and hid themselves as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, however, they had nothing with which to fight back; their defense lay solely in the hands of Master Laoshi O._

_Meiran, knowing this, ran to the laboratory._

_Master O didn't notice her until she was actually climbing into the cockpit of the Gundam that most resembled Tallgeese. "No... Meiran, stop!" he cried. "You can't handle that thing! It's not something a woman can pilot!" Master O was not being misogynist; he was well aware that a grown man twice her weight would have had trouble piloting that suit, and that merely flying it could put her life at risk. _

_There was, after all, a reason he had abandoned that design to work on the Shenlon._

_"Then I hereby give up being a woman!" Meiran cried, disregarding the danger as meaningless. __ "I am NATAKU!" With that, she took off._

_There was confusion in the moments before Wufei realized what had happened; battling... mobile suits against the Tallgeese prototype, OZ soldiers losing to a 14-year-old girl in a robot that was simply too big for her because of the raw power that robot yielded. She was in great pain; the force of the Tallgeese was enough that she almost passed out every time she made a turn, but Meiran would not quit. In fact, she was alert enough to see that the natural resources around her were suffering for the massive conflict in which she was engaged. _

_"The flowers are dying," Meiran said to herself, looking at the field in which Wufei loved to spend hours alone with his books. "I must take this fight outside!" With that, she began to lead the enemy away from the fields and into space._

_"Stop!" Wufei called as the mobile suits pulled away, running toward her as fast as he could, with no clear idea of what he would do if he acutually did catch up. He was panicked; he knew the amount of G-force being thrown around by that machine, Master O had taught him - and knew that his wife, no matter how spirited, could not take it. "You don't have the strength to pilot that! Come back!" _

_"Don't give me orders!" Meiran answered him over the loudspeaker. "This is a fight for justice!" _

Oh gods, she's going to die,_ Wufei thought to himself; he had no choice. Turning on his heel, he ran instead for the hanger to fetch the other Gundam, racing for her life more than his own. "Stupid woman!" he thought as he ran. "How does she think she can uphold justice without any STRENGTH?"_

_By the time he got to the lab, she was already coughing up blood. By the time he'd climbed into Shenlon, she was constantly dizzy from the pressure of the G-forces and somewhat out of breath, but she stubbornly clung to consciousness. __"I am justice!" she cried over and over again, and with the lives of her entire clan in her hands, continued to fight._

_"Shenlon doesn't have any weapons yet," Master O warned, not bothering to try to stop Wufei in spite of this fact. A truer testing ground for a Gundam pilot had never been created: win or die._

_"Fine," said Wufei, strapping himself in and thinking each moment that she was going to die if he didn't save her. "I'm not fighting for justice."_

_"Then why are you going?" said Master O - but he thought he already knew._

_"Because I'm not such a coward that I will stand by while my wife is killed!" Wufei shouted, and flying out with Shenlon, entered the fray._

* * *

On his sofa, fourteen months later, Wufei curled into a ball and pressed his face against the rough-worn pillow. These memories were making his stomach churn; the helplessness that had overwhelmed him that day, in spite of his actions, had been a large marker in the his forming psyche. It was the reason why Wufei was determined never to fail again; it was why, even though he did not believe in what he was protecting, he would fight to the bitter end.

Wufei had tasted defeat, and found it very bitter indeed.

* * *

_On the way to join Meiran, Wufei had come across an entirely different set of mobile suits; it seemed the Alliance's group had not been so far behind that of OZ. This in itself was not startling; their activity, however, delivered a cold, utter shock._

_They were planting biological warfare canisters. In that moment, everything that had happened to Wufei became personal and very, very ugly. _

_"...the Alliance and Oz... would go this FAR?" he said, unable to believe his eyes; using biological warfare was the lowest, the most dishonorable of actions- and Wufei lost his temper. "KISAMA!" he screamed at them in Japanese, using a word that could only be translated as "bastard." At that point in time, it was barely familiar to him; he grew to use it much more often as his fight ensued._

_Wiping out the Alliance men and their germ-laden canisters - and taking precious minutes from his duty to do it - Wufei sped on toward Meiran, fury and disgust ringing through his very skin._

_Sally Po at this point had called off her men; reporting the colony as cleared - although it was not - she had pulled back and out, sending no more reinforcements and encouraging no more deaths. By doing so, she had preserved the existence of the entire Dragon Clan; when she finally arrived back on earth, she quit her position and immediately joined the JAP point Federation medical center. Sally Po would never again have anything to do with unjust death; instead, she would concentrate on preserving life and defeating the horrible organizations that would order such things._

_Wufei was aware of none of this; he concentrated instead on the suits remaining. _

_By this time, Meiran was barely able to speak. She was telling herself over and over again that she WOULD NOT LOSE to such pathetic warriors as were against her, but the fact of the matter was, she was dying; the Tallgeese prototype she flew was slowly but surely crushing her alive._

_And then Wufei arrived._

_"Haaa!" he cried, forgoing words for the sake of concentration. Moving his Gundam with a surety that should have belonged to a man years older than he was, he disabled the first mobile suit he came across and took its weapon. Using this, he began to methodically mow down his enemies._

_"...W...Wufei?" Meiran managed in shock, her breath coming in wet gasps._

_"Hurry up and get out of here!" he shouted back at her through the com link. "A wife should listen to her husband!"_

_ Meiran was surprised enough at his advent that she refused to argue. Blood on her face and eyes almost swollen shut, she obeyed. "Yes," she said, and began to retreat._

_The battle that raged then was unimportant; the usual insults were exchanged, much gunfire was heard - and then came the statement that eventually brought Wufei to earth - and tonight, had emotionally brought him to his knees._

_"I can't allow Treize's name to be soiled in such a place as this!" shouted the leader of the mobile suit squad in desperate tones, attacking Wufei with all he had._

_"Treize? That's the name of the man in charge of this?" Wufei shouted back, committing the name to memory; whoever this "Treize" was, he had a lot to answer for. If this man had the kind of nature to organize such an underhanded strike as this... _

_Wufei, however, had not calculated the extent to which Treize's men were obsessed with him; he gasped as the one remaining captain angled his suit for Wufei's and set it to ramming speed, intending to suicide for the sake of his beloved commander. _

_Wufei tried to fire; his weapon was out of energy, and he didn't have enough time to move out of the way. He had a moment to reflect that the durability of Master O's precious gundanium was going to be tested as it never had, and then Meiran came out of nowhere. Taking the Tallgeese prototype to the highest speed she could possibly control, she rammed directly into the coming mobile suit._

_Wufei said nothing as the collision happened. The moment the explosion took place, something in his mind simply... turned off. _

My... my wife just...

_There were no more enemies to fight. That captain had been the last - so, Wufei instead concentrated on the wreckage, trying to find Meiran. He knew, logically, that she would be dead; that it was a waste of power at the least to hover out here, searching through debris for a woman who could not possibly have survived such destruction. But he could not leave her out here; the numbness resulting from the state of shock he'd entered enabled him to search in spite of this reality, in spite of the fact that part of his mind was clamoring to go to earth and FIND this man named Treize to get his answers._

_...and his revenge._

_After some minutes of the silent, delicate challenge to discern his wife's small form from the many pieces of space junk that used to be mecha, he found her._

_Alive._

_"...Meiran..." he breathed._

_"Wufei," she whispered through her comlink, her survival a tribute to the legendary heartiness of her clan._

_"Hang on, Meiran," he said with determination, beginning to shake with the realization of what had happened - what she had done. For him. Who had not deserved...._

_"I... I'm Nataku," she replied, her tone dreamy but her words sure._

_"All right, you're Nataku," Wufei hastily agreed, managing to catch her body in the hands of his Gundam and closing her in, behind and before, for the trip back to earth. He was fighting to keep from breathing too quickly._

_"You... you could praise me a little, you know," Meiran said, her feistiness apparently not affected by her bloodloss. "I protected... that field of flowers."_

_"...idiot," Wufei said, concentrating on not hurting her, feeling himself blush and his heart twist for reasons he didn't entirely understand._

_"Please take me to that field," she requested, and Wufei acquiesced - it was almost exactly where Shenlon was landing anyway._

_In his arms, like a bride, he carried her. He walked into the field where he loved to read, where they had fought, and where she had suddenly made the decision that his needs came before hers. He completely failed to understand her. _

_Wufei set her down where she requested._

_"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said quietly, wearing a gentle smile she'd never worn before and too weak to even wipe away the blood from her lips. "I've never appreciated flowers like this before." She paused. "Wufei?" she said as he sat beside her, still too numb to think of what he could possibly do other than what she'd told him._

_"What, Meiran?_"

_ "I was... strong, wasn't I? You weren't ashamed of me as your wife, were you?"_

_ Wufei averted his gaze, his expression uncharacteristically one of humility. A tone crept into his voice as of final understanding. "No. I wasn't ashamed. You're strong - stronger than anyone."_

_"No," she said, beginning to fall to the side, leaning on him. "You are stronger."_

_"...hey," he said, confused at her apparent sudden public display of affection. "Get off me... hey..." It took him only a moment more to understand that she was dead. "Hey! Open your eyes. Open your eyes! I HAVEN'T SHOWN MYSELF WORTHY OF BEING YOUR HUSBAND!" He shook her, frantic - but it was no use; she was gone. _

_"**NATAKU**!!"_

* * *

_Wufei stood at her grave for a very long time. He stood there, in silence, until Master O and Elder Ron - Meiran's grandmother - came to see him._

_"Wufei..." Master O said quietly, thinking that her fear had proven true, after all; the boy was not bearing this well, which coincided with what Master O had observed - Wufei bore each emotional wound deep within himself, not allowing it to heal, and this wound in particular was so deep that it threatened to destroy him._

_It seemed that in his course to make a perfect warrior, Master O had failed to create a perfect soldier._

_Wufei did not answer._

_"No on will try to stand in your way anymore," said the elder Ron to her son-in-law; she had apparently reached a decision. "Go back to your studies."_

_"No." Wufei had never directly said "no" to any elder before; it was shocking enough that he felt the need to repeat it. "No. I will live for justice."_

_Master O blinked. She knew Wufei had no personal beliefs in justice - which meant he was merely adopting his dead wife's. That could be a very dangerous thing to do.... "You're saying you'll pilot Shenlon?" she asked, unsure._

_"It's Nataku," corrected Wufei, still looking at the grave. "My wife protected this machine, so her spirit lives on in it. I...." Wufei looked up, clenching his fists in front of him as he'd seen her do many times before, and as she would never do again. "I... am going to change these insane times!" His voice cracked on the last word, but he said no more. With that, Wufei left the grave and never looked back. _

_He accepted Master O's indoctrination and training, never questioning, learning at a rate quick even for him - and right on time, was ready to go. In all this time he never spoke of Meiran, nor of Treize; he did not argue with his mentor, but rather focused on the task of becoming worthy of piloting Nataku - and avenging her._

_He went to earth, loaded down with specific instructions and housed in a body that had been honed into a perfect killing machine - not to mention the efficacy of his Gundam. He had attacked Victoria base, taken out several important strong points, done what Master O intended. He preached about justice, about the glory of fighting, about a dozen other things he'd heard Meiran say and still didn't entirely believe himself - but always, his TRUE goal was the same. _

_To find and kill Treize Kushrenada. _

* * *

For this, Wufei had striven; for this, he had suffered, never giving up until he finally had the opportunity to attack the man who had brought him so much grief. 

And he had failed. 

Wufei had become useless at that point, hiding away in the woods and wrestling with Sally Po's speeches. Then, he'd found a second opportunity; he'd found the sword, successfully infiltrated Treize's headquarters.... and again, he'd failed. 

Twice. He'd failed _twice_, and he could not be sure of getting any further chances. But worse than this was the fact that this failure had brought to light things he had never seen before - such as the apparently honorable nature of one Treize Kushrenada.

If this were true, then Wufei did not have the right to kill him. If this were true, then everything that had kept Wufei going for the last year was nothing more than a child's foolishness. If this were true... then Wufei had nothing left to live for.

He would never be worthy of his wife; never be worthy of the time and effort that Master O had put into him. Never be worthy of touching his Gundam again. The weight on his heart had never been so heavy; not knowing what to do, he briefly considered the course of suicide - which pilot 01 had already taken and by doing so, proved his worth.

Fortunately, Wufei did not get the opportunity to finish this train of thought. Someone knocked on his door. 

Immediately alert, Wufei moved slowly to the door, looking through the peephole to see who was bothering him. To his utter surprise, it was a young man he knew by sight as another one of the Gundam pilots.

Duo waved at the opened peephole. "Hi," he said, and then collapsed. 

Sometimes, that's simply the way Fate worked.

* * *


End file.
